crazy, again

I've been hooked on the music these days. It's what I want to listen to in the morning when I'm getting ready for the day. And I want it at night too, which is probably not the best idea for concentrating on the work I should be doing. It has moved me into a genre I hadn't tested out much before, but as always I am happy about this musical expansion. And I'm even finding enjoyable variations among the three albums I downloaded.

At first it was just about the music. That's probably how I usually start listening to something a lot, anyway. Now, though, I'm starting to notice the lyrics. Somehow they keep taking me back. They want to offer explanations, they put my emotions into words; they tell me the story I've got in my head. I don't suppose this helps, in any way, the notion of getting this unfinished story out of my head.

People - friends - are telling me this is what I need to do. The story was cut off, a bit harshly, and trying to pick it up is not what I should do. They tell me I'm better off this way. I'm not going to flat-out contradict them, because their logic makes sense. I've also been on the other side of the disconnection process, so I remember the way it finally worked. I guess I could do it; in fact, I was even kind of on the path...

The music's crazy: it's my life, right now. The irony leads to that beautiful, familiar bittersweet emotional taste. That's the problem. The bitter part should make me want to give it up. The sweet part, though, is powerfully there. And - as I've been through before - the bitter part has a strange attraction as well. I think I might know why: as long as I'm living the bitter part together with the sweet, it means I haven't given up totally. I'm going to survive on through it, against the clearer path of letting go, because this path is too special to give up yet.

I lean over close to my window, balancing with a hand on the heater. To the right are the changing-color lights and below's the diner. I breathe onto the cold of the window, obscuring the view. Like the circle of condensation on the window, things aren't clear. I know I hold on. I know I have bad nostalgia sessions. I know of the attraction of the bittersweet situation. These are my tendencies. Even with these factors, my mind is defying my own sensible logic. I didn't know for sure, I jumped in maybe a bit lightly. When I tell others I will summarize by the quintessential moments, but there were probably at least as many times that weren't like those - and just as I'm trying to argue why I shouldn't still be so gripped, the opposite reasons flood into mind. So I try to counter them with further logic. Time is supposed to create distance, right? Thinking relatively, there should easily be enough time now to have created enough distance. That argument, of course, cracks, threatens to explode to pieces, when the distance is removed in a few hours' time.

In this circle of logic I get sometimes get stuck, but probably more often I give in. I don't try to combat the good reasons with the push-away ones. I go down this path and my mind becomes enthralled again. Then I step back, seeing that this level of entanglement might actually be pretty crazy. Here's where arguments of whatever kind fall to the background: on their own, the inputs and outputs just don't make sense with each other. Probably I'm increasing the outputs by my own thoughts. Even this is an example. I don't think I can find an answer, at least not the way things are right now, and so I've gone on putting here what I feel and think, but I doubt I've "gotten" anywhere.

As much as it engulfs me, now and so many times these days, sometimes the want comes to mind for it never to have happened this way.

But how can I deny that path of events?

--

I would add lyrics... but there are just too many coming at me all at once.